


Who Am I (Who I Seem To Be)

by CheetahLeopard2



Series: White Collar/Batman fics [1]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU, White Collar
Genre: 5+1 Things, Dick Grayson is Neal Caffrey, Dick Grayson is Nightwing, Gen, Identity Porn, Neal Caffrey is Dick Grayson, Secret Identity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-24
Updated: 2020-09-24
Packaged: 2021-03-07 23:35:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,075
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26626048
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CheetahLeopard2/pseuds/CheetahLeopard2
Summary: 5 times Dick Grayson felt more like himself than Neal Caffrey and it was suspicious + 1 time Dick Grayson gets tobehimself
Relationships: Neal Caffrey & Tim Drake, Peter Burke & Neal Caffrey, Tim Drake & Dick Grayson & Jason Todd, Tim Drake/Kon-El | Conner Kent
Series: White Collar/Batman fics [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2025266
Comments: 20
Kudos: 468





	Who Am I (Who I Seem To Be)

**Author's Note:**

> I've been working on this for a while I hope everyone like it!  
> I'll switch around using Neal and Dick to refer to Dick, depending on the situation and how he feels. This will happen within scenes, and is used to further the idea that Dick is blurring the lines of who he is and who he seems to be

Dick Grayson hasn’t heard someone call him by his name in a long time. For going on 8 years now, it’s been Neal Caffrey- con man, forger, art expert.

 _Dick Grayson_ \- no matter how smoothly familiar syllables slip off his tongue he feels disconnected from them. As though Dick Grayson is a stranger.

It’s a special kind of fear, the one that creeps up on him at the realization that his real life is slipping away. What’s next? The names of his friends, his family?

The memories of his life before he picked up the alias Neal Caffrey are becoming distant- as though remembered second hand.

Neal Caffrey is a mask, a smoother, higher voice and carefully swooping hair. Mild-mannered, a bite with blunt teeth.

Dick Grayson’s had fangs. (‘Had’ or ‘has’?)

Neal wakes from nightmares more often than not- same as Dick. But his nightmares aren’t of failed missions- flames and blood- but are instead of guns and prison bars.

Both have nightmares of people close to him dying. Every time, he wakes up.

And so it goes.

* * *

5

* * *

Today, Neal wakes to the door of his apartment opening on near-silent hinges. The footsteps that follow aren’t as heavy as Peter’s, nor as light as Mozzie’s, and walk in the direction of the table without hesitation.

Neal cracks his eyes open, joints loose, muscles tense, ready to attack as-needed. Long dark hair, plain pantsuit. The woman turns slightly and Neal catches sight of a gun holster. Armed.

He angles his torso off the bed, bracing his hands on the floor before kicking the sheets off and up into a handspring into a defensive stance in one smooth movement before the woman can turn.

And then she does. Diana’s gaze goes to the bed before him, and he assumes she heard the rustle of the sheets. She takes in his stance with slightly widened eyes, “Hey?”

Neal relaxes, “Hey, Diana.”

“Neal,” she nods, “How’d you get over there from the bed?” Her tone is openly curious, a bit confused. Not at all cautious.

“You startled me,” Neal says with a disarming smile (less focused than Dick’s) and a ‘what-can-you-do?’ shrug of his shoulders.

Diana blinks, narrows her eyes, “Right.” There’s a pause, and Neal moves to make coffee.

“What’re you doing here?” Neal asks conversationally.

“Peter’s sick,” Diana answers, grabbing a mug out of the cabinet in a clear ‘give me coffee or else’ manner.

She doesn’t mention it again.

* * *

4

* * *

The Wayne Enterprises location in New York isn’t someplace Neal Caffrey makes a habit of going, despite it being within his radius.

“Did you hear?” Jones is asking Peter when Neal walks in, “The CEO of Wayne Enterprises is coming to New York to talk with us about the embezzling scam.”

Neal knows about that. Apparently the head of the WE New York’s financial department was shady, and Neal had ended up on the phone with Tim for two hours last night listening to him rant.

Tim hadn’t mentioned that he’d be coming to deal with it personally, though.

Neal hums thoughtfully.

The Wayne Enterprises location in New York isn’t someplace Neal Caffrey makes a habit of going… He’ll make an exception for his brother, though.

Tim Drake-Wayne’s flight gets in at 1pm. He’s due in the WE office at 1:30pm.

Neal takes his lunch late at 1:25pm, and it’s well worth the wait.

Tim walks into his office to find Dick sitting on his desk, and stares. And then Dick opens his arms and Tim all but runs into his eldest brother’s embrace, where they stay for a full ten minutes with a mutual agreement not to mention the tears.

“It’s been too long,” Tim says when he pulls away with a light punch to Dick’s shoulder.

Dick sighs with a bitter smile, “Yeah.”

There’s a moment of silence, before Dick hops off the desk, “I have to get back to the office and you need to go there anyway.”

Tim nods, wiping his cheeks, “So, the FBI. What’s that like?”

Dick laughs, “Well…”

Neal’s just finished spinning the tale of the synthetic pink ruby necklace when they finally walk into the White Collar office, and almost everyone turns and stares.

“Who’s that?” Peter stops in the middle of his sentence to ask, peering out the glass window of his office.

Diana turns to look, before shrugging, “A friend?”

“This is my desk,” Neal’s saying with a flourish, Tim ‘ooh’ing and ‘awe’ing appropriately, when Peter comes up to them.

Before Peter can open his mouth, Neal turns to him with a waving hand, “That’s Peter Burke, my handler,” he leans closer to Tim’s side to loudly whisper, “he’s a good guy, even with the stick up his ass.”

Peter scowls as Tim nods sagely, ignoring that Neal doesn’t usually curse so casually, “What are you doing?” he demands.

Tim leans closer to Neal, “I see what you mean,” he loudly whispers back, and Neal disguises his laugh behind a cough. Peter’s scowl deepens.

Tim reaches out a hand, “Timothy Drake-Wayne,” he introduces himself, “Call me Tim.”

Peter blinks. Once, twice. He shakes Tim’s hand, surprised by the firm grip, “The CEO?”

“The one and only,” Tim smiles, a bit sharp around the edges.

At that moment Hughes summons Peter, gesturing for him to bring Tim with.

“Good luck,” Neal comments jovially, eyes twinkling, and Tim flips him off without looking.

“Dick,” is Tim’s parting word.

Neal just laughs, brightly, at what he knows the rest of the office sees as an insult.

He missed hearing his name, especially from his family.

* * *

3

* * *

Neal’s been spending more time at WE. He knows that Peter’s probably a little suspicious, but he doesn’t care.

It’s nice to be Dick again, even if just for fleeting chunks of time.

He’s taken to having his lunch break at the same time as Tim, and they’ll go for coffee and whatever Dick chooses for real food. It’s nice, routine and familiar in a way Dick hasn’t had for a long time.

And then Peter invites himself along with an, “I don’t know _how_ you got to be such great friends with a young CEO-”

“He’s 24,” Dick points out, and is of course ignored.

“-But I’m going to tag along sometimes, make sure nothing happens.”

“Ah,” Neal says, a bit resigned and more than a bit irked, “surprise inspection.”

“Exactly,” Peter says with a flash of teeth.

Neal sighs and texts Tim that Peter’s coming. To which Tim spends a worrying amount of time typing, only sending his message when they’re already in the lobby.

 **Timmy [burger emoji]: …** Is red hood still on the FBI’s most wanted?

Neal can already feel a headache forming. _Don’t tell me._

A familiar weight is draped across his shoulders, a low, rumbling drawl in his ear, “That’s a good question.”

Despite it all, Dick can’t help but feel a bit more at ease with his brother- a man he trusts to have his back- at his back.

“And the answer is yes,” Dick says, bending one arm back to lightly ruffle Jason’s hair before gently pushing him away, “So don’t pull shit like that.”

Jason hums, not quite an agreement, but enough for Dick to know he understands and will heed his warning.

“Timmers will be down in a second,” he says, shifting his weight back to his heels and off Neal’s shoulders. Neal has to take a deep breath to avoid pulling his younger brother into a hug when he turns and- for the first time in too long- gets a good look at him.

Jason looks good. 26 has been kind to him, from the looks of it. He’s in his usual ensemble- blue jeans and a black shirt under a brown leather jacket- and it’s a bit of a shot to Dick’s heart. Looking a bit closer, he can see the evidence of Jason’s age- crinkles around the eyes from smiling, the casual, loose posture that lacks the weight of the pit and the Joker and all that came with his return.

Dick smiles- a genuine smile that’s all crooked edges and teeth and twinkling eyes and _Dick Grayson_ \- at Jason, and Jason gives a soft grin in response.

“I’m sorry,” Peter interjects, “do you know each other?” He’s confused, and there’s only a bit of bite to the question.

“We went to school together, for a while,” Jason steps forward, hand extended, “I was an English Major,” he explains as Peter shakes his hand, as though that explains everything. And, for Neal Caffrey’s line of work, it just might.

“Please don’t get him started on Jane Austen,” Tim sighs from behind Peter, and Jason and Neal share an amused look as Peter jumps, startled.

“Hey, Tim,” Neal greets, and Tim nods at him.

“Where’re you forcing me to eat now?”

Neal rolls his eyes, ignoring how Peter looks at him curiously for it, “Tim, you need to eat more.”

“I’ve been eating!” Tim protests, before his eyes widen, catching on something behind Jason, and he smoothly sidesteps to angle himself behind Neal’s taller frame.

Neal subtly flicks his gaze to where Tim was looking, preparing for a threat. He immediatly relaxes, turning fully and obviously in a ‘all clear’ sort of way, Jason turning with him.

Jason immediately smirks, waving at the young adult in line for the lobby coffee store, “Yo, Conner!”

Conner Kent nods in acknowledgment, walking over, “Hey Jason.”

Jason claps him on the back, “Timbo’s hiding behind Neal,” he directs, and Neal knows without looking that Tim’s glaring at Jason.

Neal knows his heart rate picks up as he draws Conner’s attention, stepping forward, “Neal Caffrey,” he introduces himself. Conner’s right eyebrow ticks up in surprise and Neal flashes an easy grin, “We’re making sure Tim eats today, wanna join?”

Tim pokes him in the back, but sighs in defeat as Conner easily slings an arm across his shoulders, “Of course.” Conner’s gaze refocuses on Peter, and he holds out his other hand, “Hello, I don’t think we’ve met. Conner Kent.”

“Peter Burke,” Peter returns, smile tight.

Lunch ends up being chili dogs, because no one had good reason to say no to Jason, and they eat on the way back to the FBI office.

Jason wants to walk in, just for the irony, though he states his reasoning as, “I want to see the amazing Neal Caffrey’s workplace.”

Neal shouldn’t’ve agreed to the chili dogs. He looks to Tim for support, but the asshole just shrugs, swinging his and Conner’s connected hands, “I need to get back to work. Jason doesn’t.”

Peter’s looking at Neal intently, so he forces himself to laugh lightly without glaring, “If it’s alright with Peter.”

“We should actually work,” Peter thankfully says, “Maybe next time.”

“I’ll hold ya to that,” Jason says with a mischievous smile, throwing a wave over his shoulder as he goes to catch up with Tim and Conner.

* * *

2

* * *

It was supposed to be easy. Get in, get the information, get out.

The casino’s open to everyone, and it was considered fine if he wore a wire and didn’t remove his anklet- he’d just have to be careful about flashing his socks.

The casino wasn’t supposed to be robbed.

Quickly, every non-mob-member in the place became a hostage. Quickly, this meant, Neal’s wire is found.

The FBI can’t just _move in_ on a hostage situation. They still have control of the cameras, which means Neal can’t be Dick and fight his way out. The wire, at least, is crushed, and Neal’s dragged into the boss’s office, ankle swollen and throbbing from when they harshly grabbed him- experience tells him it’s just a sprain, luckily.

Neal doesn’t gain anything from hiding that he’s with the FBI, but still ends up with bruised ribs and broken fingers for his troubles.

He’s being threatened with a knife when the gunfire starts outside.

The man threatening him startles, and Neal’s barely able to avoid his throat being slit- the knife enters his shoulder instead. He recognizes the burn of chemicals in the wound. Fuck.

He quickly pulls his hands out of the restraints, trying to not jostle his shoulder too much. Everything’s going hazy- he needs to get out.

He pulls out the poison knife and stands, stumbles.

 _I’ve fought with worse._ Dick reminds himself, details going fuzzy as he switches to Nightwing mode.

There’s a window to his left- third floor, looks like. The fire escape is two windows to the side, and Dick doesn’t have any equipment. He could make it if his shoulder weren’t on fire, but-

The world shatters into white spots and Dick spends precious time blinking them away. It doesn’t work, and the world fades to black, familiar voices coming close just as Dick’s last bits of consciousness slip away.

He comes to in a room smelling distinctly of antiseptic, light harsh and bright even through his eyelids. There’s a beeping to his left, as well as two familiar voices that he can’t quite place arguing to his right. Hospital.

He opens his eyes, sure he’s safe, and waits for his eyes to unblur.

“-Report!” he hears, and answers automatically.

“Unidentified assailant, definitely inexperienced,” the voices go silent, and Dick continues, “left ankle’s sprained, left pinky broken middle joint, right middle finger dislocated, 3rd left rib fractured, 4th, 5th, and 6th right ribs bruised, stabbed in right shoulder with blade coated with trace amounts of what seems to have been a sedative, unknown time elapsed,” he pauses, considering, “Experiencing memory loss, blurry vision, confusion, likely a mild concussion.”

Someone takes his hand, and Dick turns his head to see a blob of white with a stripe of blue.

“Well,” Dick smiles jokingly, “did I get it all?”

“Dammit Neal,” the blob says, and Dick’s smile falters.

Neal. He has one alias named Neal. Dick quickly goes through his jumbled memories, and wants to hit himself. He can excuse his voice, as cracked as it is. But fuck, CIs don’t report like that. _FBI agents_ don’t report like that. He can probably brush it off as the concussion, _maybe._

 _“_ Neal,” the blob, probably Peter, says gently, “What’s the last thing you remember?”

“We were…” Dick closes his eyes, focusing, “on a case. At a casino. There was a fight. Peter, I’m tired.”

“I’m sure you are,” Peter says, lacking any bite, “Get some rest, Neal.”

Neal closes his eyes, and slips back into sleep.

* * *

1

* * *

Neal remembers where he is, the next time he wakes up.

Someone’s holding his hand, and another person is stroking their hand through his hair in a familiar pattern.

He forces his eyes open, and wonder of all wonders he can see again!

“Tim?” he mumbles, and the hand in his hair stills before resuming its motion. Tim hums.

“Hey, Neal. You’ve been out of it for a couple days. Jay’s out for blood.”

Neal quickly computes the date, “Weren’t you supposed to fly home?”

“Yeah,” Tim answers, voice soft, “Dad’s pretty pissed.”

He’s not talking about not being home on time, Neal knows. Neal doesn’t feel right. He’s struck by a sudden wave of _tired and wrong and displace and w r o n g._ He’s so tired. So sick of pretending. He wants to wake up in his own bed to smelly, smoggy air and the promise of Alfred’s cooking. He wants to be called by his real name. He wants to see Bruce, and Damian, and Steph and Cass and Duke and he just wants his _family_.

“Tim,” Dick says, voice weak.

Tim hums again.

“I want to go home,” Dick says, voice breaking. “I- fuck. I want to go home.”

Tim makes an alarmed noise as Dick curls towards him, shoulder aching as sobs escape him.

“I don’t want to do this anymore. I want to go _home_.”

“I didn’t know he had a home,” Peter whispers from his other side, squeezing his hand gently. Dick just sobs harder.

“I miss dad, and you, and our brothers and A and the girls and the team and-” Dick’s starting to hyperventilate- his increased heartrate beeping alarmingly from the side as Tim tries to sooth him and nurses rush in, “I want to go _home, Timmy take me home_.”

There’s a pinprick of pain, and then he sinks back into unconsciousness gratefully.

* * *

+1

* * *

Dick wakes up slowly, Jason’s voice even and soothing as he reads out loud. There’s a smaller body pressed to his side, breathing evenly and slowly- Damian. Tim’s messing with his hair again, and when Dick opens his eyes Bruce and Cass are signing to each other.

He can’t help the desperate, sad noise that escapes from the back of his throat, and he’s crying again.

Everyone snaps to him in a panic, and then Jay is calling for a nurse and Damian’s pressing closer and Cass grabs his hand and Dick-

Dick feels better than he has in a long time.

“Dad,” he says through his tears, and Bruce startles like he always does when Dick calls him that, “let me come home, _please.”_

Bruce is at his side in an instant, “Don’t worry, chum. You’re coming back with us.”

Dick’s throat hurts with unsaid words, and he just nods, squeezing Cass’s hand, winding his arm to pull Damian closer.

Peter enters in a flurry of movement, “What’s going on?”

“He’s coming with us,” Bruce says calmly.

“You can’t do that,” Peter protests, “He’s either with the FBI- with us- or in jail.”

Neal recognizes the desperation, the protectiveness in Peter’s tone, “Peter,” he says.

Peter’s at his side in an instant, ignoring Damian’s glare. Neal tightens his arm around Damian in assurance.

“I’m not Neal Caffrey.”

Peter gapes, and Dick soldiers on, “I’ve been undercover as Neal Caffrey for…” Dick falters, “for too long. My name is Dick Grayson and I promise I’m come and visit, but Peter,” Dick holds Peter’s gaze, he needs Peter to understand, “It’s been too long. I need to go home.”

Neal Caffrey ceases to exist exactly 3 days and 4 hours from that moment.

Dick Grayson steps out of the Wayne jet with a package of homebaked goods from June and El, and breaths in the air of Gotham- thick with smog and crime and desperation and something that people can never truly leave behind.

“Dick!” his family calls.

And Dick Grayson goes _home._

**Author's Note:**

> Please comment!!! Have a good day


End file.
